Sylvia wondered to herself if the letter she had carried to Mr. Doane
might not be a message to the President? She wished she could tell this
big officer about it. But she remembered her promise to Mrs. Carleton
not to speak of it to anyone.
"Here's a half-drowned little Yankee girl and her little darky," said
the officer, as he led the two girls into a warm pleasant room where a
pretty elderly lady with white hair sat with her needlework.
"For pity sake, Gerald!" she exclaimed. "They are shivering with cold,"
and without asking a single question she began to take off Sylvia's wet
dress.
"Gerald, send Sally right in with hot milk," she directed, and the
officer vanished.
It was not long before Sylvia was sitting up in bed wrapped in a gay-
colored blanket and drinking milk so hot and sweet and spicy that it
seemed as if she could never have enough of it. Estralla was curled up
in a big scarlet wrapper on a rug near the fire with a big mug of the
spiced and sweetened milk. And when they had finished this a plate of
hot buttered biscuit, and thin slices of ham, was brought in. Then there
was more warm milk.
"Now you must both go straight to sleep," commanded Mrs. Gerald, "and
to-morrow morning my husband will take you safely home," and kissing
Sylvia, and with a kindly smile for Estralla, the friendly woman bade
them good-night.
There was no light now in the room save the dancing firelight, Sylvia
lay watching the shadows on the wall.
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